


Desk, Set, Match

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Desk Sex, Flirting, Light Angst, M/M, Nixon Nitration, Post-Canon, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: Two hours later, Dick was forced to admit he'd miscalculated. He'd imagined that he'd be able to tolerate a fully clothed Lewis Nixon, fine suit or not, perching on the edge of his desk. He had not accounted for Nix with his jacket off and his tie loosened to show off the skin at his throat, leaning over Dick's shoulder. He especially hadn't accounted for Nix demonstrating an apparent interest in his job.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 14
Kudos: 121
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	Desk, Set, Match

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains references to canonical alcoholism, some no, no, yes, and some D/s, though it's all pretty light.
> 
> Written for the Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt meme: "Office sex at Nixon Nitration."

Dick drifted awake with Nix half sprawled on top of him, his thigh idly rubbing against Dick's cock at the same time as his fingers toyed with Dick's chest hair.

"Mmm," Dick murmured when he was awake enough to separate gently erotic dreams from sunny spring mornings in bed with his lover. He loved it when Nix woke him up like this, drawing him awake with teasing touches and promises of more. They'd spent whole Saturdays in bed in those first few months, starting like this and ending falling asleep curled up together. Dick ran his nails up and down Nix's back and rocked his hips up to rub his cock against Nix's thigh. The whole world was warm and smelled familiar and sweet.

"Like that, huh?" Nix asked, and kissed Dick thoroughly before he could reply.

Dick took hold of his shoulders, thinking that he'd like to roll Nix on his back so that he could screw him into the bed, or at least slip his cock between his thighs. Nix had been putting on a little weight since the end of the war, but he still had the muscled shoulders of a paratrooper, and Dick loved running his hands over them. He loved running his hands over every part of Nix.

All at once, Nix broke the kiss, twisted out of Dick's hold, and rolled off the bed.

Dick blinked up at him, feeling stupid, cock aching for more. He must have been gaping like a fish, because Nix grinned down on him. It was that same smug look he always got when Dick walked into one of his setups, no matter how much Dick should have known better.

"We're going to be late for work," Nix said. He was naked—he always slept naked—and showing off a hard on, but already pulling on his robe. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast."

"We?" Dick demanded, though he looked past Nix to the clock, and realised that he was right, and Nix had probably known they wouldn't have time even as he was winding Dick up. He'd probably known it when he'd turned the alarm off. "Since when do you care if you show up at all?"

Nix shrugged, tying the belt of his robe with a superior expression. "First day of spring, figured I might as well try turning over a new leaf."

Dick wasn't sure Nixon Nitration as a body would know what to do with a Nixon who actually appeared at the plant on a regular basis, but after months of nagging Nix about duty to the company, he could hardly argue with him now, even when it left him with blue balls. Hell, maybe Nix _was_ turning over a new leaf. Miracles did occur. "Hmm," was all he said, rolling out of bed to go jerk off in the shower.

Nix did make a good breakfast, and a bacon omelette with extra toast mollified Dick long enough to drive into the plant. There, his secretary had coffee strong enough to fuel Second Battalion. Dick was on his second cup when his brain ticked over to the concept that Nix was going to be at the plant all day, in the office just down the hall from Dick's own, probably with nothing whatsoever to do.

Esther Blaine, who was ostensibly Stanhope Nixon's secretary, but in reality made a lot of the day to day decisions about the management of the factory, cast Dick a long look full of recriminations when he emerged in search of a third coffee and the latest stack of resumes. Dick shrugged and made a helpless gesture, abrogating culpability for the boss' son showing up for once.

The both glanced at the closed door of Nix's office—a grand corner suite that overlooked the river just as Dick's overlooked the factory floor—then locked eyes. Dick grimaced and ducked his head, admitting responsibility for what happened next, if not the cause.

Just then, Nix emerged and posed, leaning against the door frame with one hipped cocked. His tie was not only knotted correctly but pulled snug to his throat; his hair looked as though he'd combed it, and he'd shaved sometime in the past few hours. In a steel-blue suit with a navy pocket square, he looked cut out of a glossy magazine ad selling yachts to young, if conservative, professionals. He had definitely not looked like that when he'd pulled into his private parking space near the door. He hadn't looked this good since the last time Dick had seen him in his Class As.

"So, what are we doing today, Esther?" Nix asked.

Dick swallowed hard, forcing himself to tear his eyes from Nix.

Esther's eyebrows hit her hairline. She looked at Dick accusingly.

Dick shrugged slightly and did what he always did: took on responsibility for Lewis Nixon III, and all the adventures that entailed.

"We're expanding capacity on the east floor," he said cautiously, trying to remember if he'd told Nix about this, and if he had, if Nix had shown the least sign of listening.

"Right, the new plastics line," Nix said, like he'd spent the last week in meetings with Dick and Esther, not out at the country club working on his golf swing.

"Right," Dick agreed, cautiously. He was pretty sure Nix had been there when they'd talked about the need to expand past nitrates, but a bottle of scotch had been there too. As much as Nix seemed like he was cutting back some weeks, other weeks didn't go as well. Dick gathered his thoughts, moved back to the topic of the day's schedule. "Right, um, well, Mr. Shuster and I were going to look through these resumes, decide who to call in for interviews later this week."

"Oh, well," Nix said, and Dick could see the indecision teetering in his expression. Personnel jackets were exactly the kind of thing he'd hated dealing with as an S3, but then he smiled and tipped his head so that a lock of hair fell across his forehead. "That sounds interesting. Mind if I sit in?"

Dick felt heat rising in his face, doubling with the knowledge that Esther could see it, and probably had some suspicion as to why Lewis Nixon in a well cut suit could make him blush.

"You're the boss," Dick said without enthusiasm.

Nix grinned. "I am, aren't I?"

They'd known each other for four years, and at some point in there, Nix giving him that special smile that he reserved only for Dick should have stopped making Dick's knees wobble. Only it hadn't. Dick picked the file of resumes up off Esther's desk, and gestured Nix back towards his office.

"Oh, no, after you," Nix said, and put his hand on the small of Dick's back to guide him forward. It shouldn't have been possible to feel the heat of Nix's body through his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, so maybe it was just the contact itself that made Dick's skin burn. He thought of that morning in bed, and how Nix had woken him up with his hands all over him.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Dick muttered, at himself as much as at Nix. He had better control of himself, he knew he did. He'd showered next to Nix for four years, and managed to keep his hands to himself the whole time, or, at least when they were on base and could get caught.

"What's that?" Nix asked, but when Dick didn't answer, he finished herding Dick back into his own office and called back over his shoulder, "Have some coffee sent in, would you, Esther?"

"I'll get Betty right on it, Mr. Nixon," Esther answered, but added sotto voce, "Once she's finished with her nails."

Nix pulled the door shut and perched one hip on the corner of Dick's desk. "I'm beginning to suspect we should be looking for a new secretary."

Dick knew that Nix had been given Betty because she never did anything more than he did, but was Esther's niece and needed to be kept on. He was pretty sure Nix knew it too. "I'll look into it," he said blandly.

"Well you are the personnel manager," Nix said, with the usual smugness when he mentioned Dick's title. It seemed that he would never be over the pride in having talked Dick into following him to Nixon, New Jersey, and further having talked his father into giving Dick the same salary he'd made in the army, jump pay included.

"Seems like it," Dick admitted. He settled in his desk chair, and tried not to look at the way Nix was half sitting on his desk showed off his thighs and ass. Nix was, of course, doing this on purpose, and Dick wasn't intending to play into it. He was going to make Nix read every single one of the resumes spilling out of the folder, and have an opinion on all of them, and they were going to do it in front of plant foreman Charlie Shuster, so he couldn't get up to much. Dick blinked—a flash of Nix naked and spread open on top of the desk appearing on the backs of his eyelids—flipped the folder open, and started, "Well, I figure what we're looking for here, is..."

Two hours later, Dick was forced to admit he'd miscalculated. He'd imagined that he'd be able to tolerate a fully clothed Lewis Nixon, fine suit or not, perching on the edge of his desk. He had not accounted for Nix with his jacket off and his tie loosened to show off the skin at his throat, leaning over Dick's shoulder. He especially hadn't accounted for Nix demonstrating an apparent interest in his job.

Shuster was sitting across from Dick, his chair pushed back a little and his legs crossed as he flipped through a stack of C.V.s, watching the two of them with no little amusement, as Dick tried to put more former army men in the interview pile, while Nix argued for men with more war-time factory experience.

Nix had a hand on Dick's shoulder, while he reached down and pointed out a line on the paper in front of him. His breath kept rustling Dick's Brill-creamed hair, and Dick had a hard time not imagining turning his head just a little and stealing a kiss.

Of course, that's exactly what Nix intended. He was wearing some kind of cologne that Dick didn't recognise, and he found himself leaning in a little to get a better feel for the mix of leather and spice wafting off Nix's neck. He'd forgotten his train of thought, and nodded to whatever Nix said, letting him put his factory man on the interview pile after all.

"How about some lunch?" Dick asked, wanting to cool the air of his office before Shuster noticed something. He felt more than saw Nix giving him an assessing look before nodding.

"Sure." Nix's hand drifted up to the back of Dick's neck, and for a moment Dick thought that Nix was going to suggest a working lunch, maybe just the two of them, and couldn't see how his control would survive that. "I was thinking of going out to McGarrigill's today, how about you?"

"I packed a sandwich," Dick said, which Nix well knew. He'd packed it in front of him.

"Oh, well," Nix said, standing up and letting the suddenly cool air of the office raise goosebumps across Dick's neck where his hand had just been. "Charlie?"

"All right," Shuster agreed, surprised. Dick was too; he'd never been sure that Nix knew anyone other than Esther's name, and suspected Nix only knew that because Esther had been Stanhope's mistress before she'd been his secretary. It was, Dick thought, the source of a lot of her knowing looks when it came to sleeping with the boss, but whatever she knew, she kept to herself. Neither she nor Dick could afford to lose an ally in this place.

Left alone to his sandwich, Dick tried to work out if Nix had meant what he said about turning over a new leaf, or if he'd just gotten bored and decided to amuse himself by riling Dick up where he could neither object nor do something about it. If it were the latter, Nix would grow tired of that game after a few days and go back to whatever it was that he did when he didn't bother to show up for work beyond picking up his cheque. If it was the former, Dick wasn't sure what that would mean for them.

It would be nice, he thought, to work together again, like they had during the war, but he didn't know if it might not bring up too many memories. Dick already had trouble focusing on work sometimes, when certain sounds or smells started to set him on edge, and his head started to swivel, looking for danger that he'd left four thousand miles away.

They were in a war, of a sort, here too: Dick and Esther against Stanhope. They were trying to drag the factory into the twentieth century, now that the United States' supplies of oil and rubber had been restored. It wouldn't be long before nitration works went the way of muskets or the horse and buggy. Nix had never shown the slightest interest in joining that battle, and Dick had never been sure if it was that Nix didn't want to argue with his father, or if he didn't want to argue at all.

Dick missed the Nix that had fight in him. Maybe not the kind of guts and glory pugnacity that someone like Wild Bill or Harry Welsh had, but the quiet, efficiency that took Sink or Strayer's plans and turned them into something that would get the fewest men killed, the man who huddled in a foxhole with Dick so that he could see where the action was. So that he could keep Dick warm.

Since Dick had moved in with Nix—just until he found his own place, he'd told everyone back in January—the warmth and familiarity had been there, even the passion on those Saturday mornings that stretched into late afternoons, but not the camaraderie. As much as Dick hadn't missed the army, or the despair, and certainly not the weather, Dick sometimes admitted that he missed on Captain Nixon, intelligence or operations officer.

Months later, he'd told himself that if they were never going to get that back, Dick could live with it, had almost gotten used to it, even, just so long as he knew that for sure.

Dick flipped through the resumes in the "interview" pile, and tried to remember what Nix had said about them. He had been right about wanting men with more factory experience, especially for the new floor. Shuster had been saying that they needed to headhunt a few hands to introduce the new system.

Did Nix care, or had he just gleaned enough of what was going on to B.S. his way forward, like he had in OCS?

More than anything, Dick wanted to ask him, to find out if Nix would fight by his side again. However, as Nix sauntered in after lunch—satisfied by a good meal leisurely eaten, and face only a little flushed from beer shared over food—Dick couldn't think of the words. Nix was wearing his jacket again, but his tie was hanging out of his pocket, and he'd undone two shirt buttons. Dick wanted to press his nose to the stubble darkening his cheeks and inhale that new aftershave.

"So where were we?" Nix asked as Shuster followed him in. They settled back as they'd been, Nix leaning over Dick's shoulder, Shuster across the desk, Dick not sure he could take another hour of this.

But Dick had weathered four years in uniform, he could put up with an afternoon of Nix's relentless flirting.

Nix's cheek brushed against Dick's as he leaned in again, and Dick felt sweat prickle under his collar. He wanted to loosen his tie, but wouldn't give Nix the satisfaction of seeing him do it. Instead, he cleared his throat and tossed a kid who'd served in the 17th Airborne onto the interview pile without letting Nix even look at it.

An hour later, Dick hadn't so much as pushed up his sleeves, and Nix had lost his jacket and unbuttoned his gauntlet buttons in order to roll his sleeves up past the elbows. When Dick stood to go get some coffee, his hip brushed against Nix's crotch and he felt his hard on through his pants. Annoyance at how obvious they were being warred with satisfaction that Nix was even more wound up than Dick was, and even less likely to get something out of it. At least if he kept this up, he wasn't, Dick promised himself. Nix had never been a match for Dick when it came to self-deprivation.

They ran out of resumes before either of them broke, and Dick was returned to blessed sole possession of his own office. Nix lingered in the doorway for a moment, slouched against the jamb, the muscles of his forearm flexing as he ran a hand through his hair, disarranging it into a bed-headed mess.

Dick leaned back in his chair and looked away. He didn't have to look at Nix to know the man was smirking again, just like Nix didn't have to be able to see under Dick's desk to know that he had a hard on.

At least Nix left Dick alone after that, or stopped lingering in his office anyway. Every time Dick went out to talk to Esther or find more coffee, he seemed to run into Nix in some form of dishabille, and after all the hints dropped and casual touches, Nix didn't even have to lay a finger on him to get his engine running.

Dick locked himself in his office for the last hour before shift change, when Nix usually gave him a ride home, even if he hadn't bothered to otherwise show up to work. He was able to put his head down and work through a pile of reports he'd been ignoring. Sometimes he had to read a paragraph a few more times than he usually did, but he felt as though he were getting at least some work done, when his thoughts weren't drifting to the feel of Nix's cheek against his, the scent of his cologne, how it'd felt to wake up with Nix's hands all over him. When he wasn't imagining Nix kneeling under his desk, his mouth hot on Dick's cock.

Five minutes past five, Nix drifted back into Dick's office. He closed the door behind him, then pulled the blind for good measure. The factory floor below was caught in a tangle of motion as the day shift filed out, and the evening men came in. They should go soon, too, as the custodian would want into Dick's office to clean it.

Instead of herding Dick towards the car with comments that he wasn't going to make any overtime, no matter how long he stayed, Nix crowded up behind Dick's chair again and leaned in to see what he was reading.

"Why this sudden interest?" Dick couldn't help asking.

Nix raked his fingers through Dick's hair, his nails biting into the nape of his neck. "Hardly sudden, is it? Thought I'd made that clear back in..."

"I mean in your job," Dick replied crossly. He hated that he couldn't help leaning back into Nix's touch, no matter how annoyed he should be that Nix had spent the entire day toying with him.

"Oh, that." Nix laughed carelessly. "Maybe I'm just bored." He ran his hands down the sides of Dick's neck, his thumbs digging in as he went, and Dick moaned softly. "Christ, Dick, you're tying yourself in knots over this plastics thing."

"Someone needs to give a..." Dick started, but he melted into incoherence as Nix started massaging his shoulders. He pushed Dick's jacket down his arms, and dug his fingers in through the thin cotton of his shirt. Dick grunted in pleasure and let his head fall back against Nix's ribs.

"There you go," Nix murmured. "Don't I always look after you?"

Half the reason Dick was so tense was because Nix had been a damn tease all day, and Dick wanted to say something about not needing to be saved if Nix hadn't landed him in hot water in the first place, but his body was responding to Nix's touch with such enthusiasm that it stripped him of the use of language. After a day of holding himself back, it felt too good to give in. As Nix kept pushing his jacket further down his arms, Dick thought muzzily that it could be something of a metaphor for their relationship: Nix tugging at the threads of Dick's control until he found an end that unravelled him. Dick couldn't tell if it was good or bad that he liked coming apart in Nix's hands as much as he did.

He didn't even notice that his tie was gone until Nix's hands were on his throat undoing his top button.

"Lew," he said, but he couldn't tell if his voice was low with warning or desire. He certainly knew how Nix took it: undoing the next button and running his hands over Dick's chest under his shirt. He knew the window overlooking the factory floor didn't have the blinds down, but this angle wouldn't let him see anything. He also knew that Esther often worked late and had probably seen Nix go into Dick's office and not come out. Well, she couldn't judge. She'd probably been the one giving, or receiving, the massage a few years ago.

That thought was enough to make Dick straighten up in the chair and say, "Nix, stop."

Nix's hands froze part way down Dick's chest, but he didn't pull away. His lips brushed Dick's ear as he asked, "What's the matter?"

"We can't," Dick protested, struggling to put his thoughts in order. "Not here."

"Sure we can," Nix told him. His tongue tracing the shell of Dick's ear was a lot more persuasive than his actual words.

"It's too dangerous," Dick countered, like he had any of the dozen times they'd messed around in supply cupboards, offices, and empty billets all across Europe. He supposed that if he wanted Nix to stop when he protested, he should also have not been so consistent in following that protest up with frantic necking a few seconds later. "So much for turning over a new leaf," he muttered, and immediately felt small and resentful.

"I'm at work, aren't I?" Nix said, apparently not possessing a shred of either guilt or propriety, but Dick had known that when he'd moved in with him. Dick had known that for years, and kept coming back to Nix like robins in the spring. "I even worked, sort of, so what are you grousing about?"

This was accompanied by a resumption of the travel of Nix's hands, which worked down to Dick's ribs and then pulled his shirt out of his pants. He was kissing Dick's neck, starting at the ear and working his way down to his collarbone, which made his hair fall into Dick's face, its softness a contrast to the rough stubble of Nix's jaw against his neck.

Dick sighed. "Doesn't seem like I've got much to complain about, does it?" he said, and he didn't, not really. He tipped his head to catch Nix's mouth, kissing him properly, like he'd imagined doing all day. The angle was all wrong, but the feel of Nix's lips against his wiped out the last trace of any doubts Dick might have had. He stopped talking, and soon all he could hear were the wet sounds of their lips meeting and the rustle of fabric as Nix undid one button after another.

Nix pulled away, finally, and crossed to close the blinds between Dick's office and the floor below. Dick pushed himself out of the chair while Nix was gone, wanting to meet him eye to eye, and to get his hands on him.

Nix was still smirking, but from the heat in his cheeks and the bulge in his trousers, he wasn't unaffected either. Dick considered playing him out and not satisfying him until they got home, but it wasn't worth the cost to himself. Like so many things with Nix, surrender was easier.

As though he could read Dick's thoughts, Nix said, "You're telling yourself I'm a bad influence, aren't you?" He looped his arms around Dick's neck and pulled their bodies together, grinding against Dick's leg. "But all I'm doing is giving you is an excuse to do what you've always wanted."

"That what you think?" Dick asked, unwilling to surrender the ground, even though Nix was right, as usual. He felt as though he should be able to come up with a better repartee, but the feel of Nix's cock against his was drawing all his attention.

"Yup," Nix said, face so close to Dick's that his grin was a pale blur. "How much of today did you spend thinking about shoving me down across your desk and screwing me?"

The answer was higher than zero, so Dick tried to shut Nix up by kissing him, but Nix just wriggled out of his grip and dropped to his knees. He rested his chin on Dick's hipbone as he tipped his face up to look at Dick. His lips were very wet. "Or thinking about that time in Holland when I knelt under your desk and sucked you off?"

Grabbing a double handful of Nix's hair, Dick showed him that he remembered exactly how that had gone by rubbing his crotch against Nix's face. Nix moaned in approval at the roughness and pulled back enough to undo Dick's fly. He mouthed Dick's cock through his shorts, staring up at Dick all the while. His eyes were black with desire, and Dick almost didn't have the control to stop.

Dick ran his hand through Nix's hair again, pulling his face away and stepping back out of Nix's loose hold on his hips. He liked the look of Nix in his shirtsleeves, on his knees in front of Dick, seemingly controlled just by Dick's hand in his hair. He didn't know if he'd have liked it more or less if he thought that control was more than the barest illusion.

"You were saying something about shoving you over the desk?" Dick asked, attempting to make it casual but aware that his cheeks had flushed bright pink, and he was nearly shaking with lust. Control was a pretence at best now, and he'd follow Nix wherever he led.

Nix grinned up at him. "Was hoping you'd like that idea." He shook free of Dick's grip on his hair and stood up, and, without breaking eye contact, undid his belt and fly and pushed his pants down to his thighs. The tails of his shirt brushed against his cock, but the head poked out between them, making Dick lick his lips and consider taking it in his mouth and seeing if he could _really_ make Nix lose control.

Before he could, Nix turned and bent over Dick's desk, spreading his legs wide and gripping the sides like he expected it would be a rough ride. Dick could see something gleaming between Nix's ass cheeks and realised that Nix must have slicked himself up before he'd come in. He'd probably done it in the toilet attached to his office, and the image of Nix fucking opening himself with his fingers—something Dick had seen him do many times—was almost enough to distract Dick from the thought that he was still going to need more slick. He put one hand on the small of Nix's back, holding him in place, and rummaged through his pants pockets with the other, coming up with a tube of gel.

"Pretty damn sure of yourself," Dick complained, but he knew the hypocrisy of the words as he said them. He was the one twisting the cap off the slick; he was the one pulling his cock out and coating it, his hand lingering as it slid up and down his length. Nix snorted, but didn't bother to answer. He was always sure of himself in this, and he always had good reason to be.

So Dick did what he really had been thinking about all day, and he stroked his slicked hand over Nix's cock while pressing into his ass. Nix really had made himself ready, and the slide into him was easy, but Dick still kept it slow. When Nix tried to raise his head to turn around and see what was taking so long, Dick grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him down against the polished surface of the desk. Nix's nose was just about in the stack of rejected resumes. Nix turned his face sideways so that his cheek was against the desk, and Dick could see a crescent of his bared teeth, but not his eyes, which his hair had fallen into. Dick kept him pinned and pushed into him until his hips met Nix's ass.

He stopped when he was completely inside Nix, taking a breath, and letting himself feel for what seemed like the first time since Nix had rolled out of bed. He knew how debauched they must look, not even properly undressed and screwing on the desk, both their faces already gleaming with perspiration and their hair a mess. Nix seemed to love making a mess of Dick.

"Gonna stand there all day?" Nix asked.

Dick tightened his hand around Nix's cock until his breath hissed out. Should he jerk Nix off now and then screw him while he was pliant and sloppy, or draw him out until the end? "Was thinking about it."

"Bastard," Nix muttered, but didn't move other than to clench down around Dick's cock.

The tightening of muscles around him was enough to make Dick rock his hips forward, instinctively trying to press deeper, even though there was no room to go. Dick had never found someone he fit with like he did with Nix. The first time they'd been together like this, all the way back in Georgia, it'd felt like unlocking something in Dick's chest, like coming off a six-hour field march with full pack, the moment he could drop his gear, and feel the weight of the day vanish. Sex with Nix was like that, every time, even when they were pissed as hell at each other, even after the Ardennes when Dick had barely been holding on to his sanity. Nix had wound him up then, too, and then offered his body up to sate Dick's frustrations. As he drew out of Nix's body, Dick couldn't believe how someone outwardly so self-involved could possess such incredible generosity.

"Was thinking of doing this to you," Dick muttered, and rocked back into the heat of Nix's body. Nix didn't talk back, just groaned and took it. His knuckles had turned white as he gripped the desk, and he grunted each time Dick thrust into him. Dick wasn't taking him hard, yet, but slowly rocking his hips, getting a feel for what they wanted. His shirt was already sticking to his back, and his neck prickled with sweat from the exertion. He could feel Nix's skin slippery under the hand on his neck. Dick hadn't been jerking him off, but decided he wanted the feel of Nix losing control as Dick took him and started gentle strokes in time with his thrusts.

"Jesus Christ, Dick," Nix murmured, and closed his eyes. He was open mouthed and drooling on Dick's polished desk, but Dick couldn't think about ruining the finish, not when each time his hand ran down Nix's cock, his body jerked in response. It was like the feeling of stroking himself off, but a hundred times better: his hand playing Nix's body, and Nix responding to increase Dick's pleasure. He let go of Nix's neck and pushed his shirt up his back as far as it would go. The damp cotton bunched and rumbled, but Dick had always loved the smooth skin of Nix's back. He'd used to run his nails up and down it, leaving track marks, and all the guys in the shower would wolf whistle and assume Nix had a girl in town who liked to get frisky. Only Dick and Nix had known the truth of the marks.

Dick thrust into Nix harder, snapping his hips forward, slapping against Nix's ass, and raked down Nix's back. His nails were blunt, but they still left pink trails on pale skin. He'd show Nix later, in front of the mirror, but for now Nix was unseeing, his face screwed tight with pleasure as Dick kept pulling him off. His whimpers had gotten higher and faster, and Dick knew Nix wouldn't last long now. He loved that he knew what every sound he could wring out of Nix meant, knew his moods, knew the best ways to make him come. No one else could say that about Lewis Nixon. No one else could spread Nix over their desk and screw him hard and deep. Dick knew pride of ownership was a sin, but Nix had a particular talent for drawing the sin out of Dick.

Nix was begging by then, a soft babble of words that Dick felt more than heard. There was never any meaning to it, just the need to pour out pent up emotion in the moments before he came. Listening to the actual words had always seemed almost too personal, and Dick just let them flow over him: _yes, please, more, Christ, love you, please.._

Waves of pleasure built in Dick, each one reflecting back and building up the next, but Dick held on, biting his lip as he kept himself back. He slid his slick hand up and down Nix's cock, moving faster than his own thrusts in an off beat time that he knew drove Nix nuts. Each time he rolled the ball of his thumb over the head of Nix's cock, Nix's flow of words broke and stuttered, and his body tightened around Dick's cock. His words broke down into incoherent whimpers, and Dick thought about dragging things out, letting go and taking his pleasure first, then wringing all kinds of promises out of Nix, but the pool of adoration growing inside him wouldn't let him do it.

Instead, Dick tightened his hold, and pumped Nix's cock twice more , and let him spill out all over Dick's hand and the edge of Dick's desk. Nix's body tightened around Dick's, and his muscles locked up for a moment as he clung to the desk like it was a life raft on the high seas. He let out a long, shaking breath, and slumped forward, his legs going limp and his hands sliding off the edges. The pressure around Dick's cock released as Nix became utterly relaxed under him.

Dick had been skimming along the surface of his pleasure, focusing on Nix's reactions, and letting his body move mechanically, but he couldn't hold back with Nix so open and trusting under him. Dick took hold of Nix's hips in both hands and rocked into his body with sharp, even thrusts. Each one pushed him closer to the edge, until he floated, suspended, in his ecstasy for that one perfect moment before he tumbled down. Dick bit his lip until it bled to keep from screaming. His whole body seemed to pour into Nix as he came, not just the tension of his muscles, but his fears and frustrations, his anger, his hopes. The image of Nix lying under him, slack jawed and seemingly at peace burned into Dick's mind in that moment, and he knew he'd remember forever the look of Nix's flushed skin against the dark wood of the desk. He could see it then, even as he closed his eyes.

"Oh, God, Lew," Dick moaned, and slumped forward, groping until he found Nix's hands and laced their fingers together. Dick had to lock his elbows to keep from collapsing on top of Nix entirely. He wished they were already at home, in bed, so that he could cradle Nix against his chest and hold him for as long as this blissful peace between them might last. In the moments following orgasm, when they were both satisfied and relaxed, Dick always thought of that first time at OCS Nix had slung his arm around Dick's shoulders and grinned at him, and Dick's heart had done this little flip while his brain screamed he better watch out. Thank God he hadn't listened.

When he'd caught his breath, Dick pulled out, grimacing at the mess, and stood upright. He could almost manage it, only needing two fingers on the edge of the desk to steady himself. He wiped at his sweaty brow with the back of his sleeve and contemplated clean up.

Nix, for his part, rolled on his side and pulled his legs up until he was curled in a ball on top of Dick's desk, his bare ass hanging off one edge and his shoes off another. "Just put a blanket over me and leave me," he mumbled.

"Serve you right if I did," Dick told him.

He found a roll of paper towels in a cupboard, and cleaned himself and then Nix, the rough paper scratchy on over sensitive skin. Nix moaned in protest, but didn't pull away. He also didn't help as Dick cleaned the desk and the floor under it, before packing the used towels into a paper bag to be disposed of elsewhere. If the army had taught him anything, it was that whoever did the cleaning collected the secrets.

"Come on, Nix," Dick said, holding out his hand. Nix took it, rolling to his feet. He leaned against the office door and lit a cigarette, watching with disinterest as Dick wiped down the desk, then locked his papers up for the night.

Dick combed his hair back, hoping the sweat would pass for pomade, and did his best to arrange his clothes. He was sure that anyone who saw them would know what they'd been doing, and couldn't keep the heat from rising up to the tips of his ears every time he thought about it.

Nix was playing with his lighter, clicking it open and shut. He hadn't done more than do up his trousers and tuck his shirt in, but he could usually be counted on to look like he'd just walked in from an all-night revel, often because he had. He was smirking at Dick again. Well, he'd earned it. All he'd had to do was crook his finger, and Dick had fallen into his lap like he usually did, and he didn't even regret it, not really.

"You're blushing," Nix commented. "How the hell did we get through the war without Col. Sink catching on?"

Dick sighed. It wasn't like Nix really wanted to know. He was just pulling Dick's pigtails, as usual. He answered anyway, "Well, I guess it was different over there, Nix. It was the war, and anything we did, I could just tell myself, 'oh, well, it's what happens to soldiers.'"

"Huh," Nix said, like none of that had ever occurred to him.

That didn't surprise Dick; if there was one flaw Nix didn't possess, it was a need to rationalise his vices. He thought for a minute, lounging against the wall while Dick wrung the neck of the bag full of soiled paper towels, wondering what the hell Nix was going to make of that confession. It felt too soon after the ecstasy of making love to argue. It was always too soon to argue with Nix. It never went anywhere anyway.

Then Nix laughed, and said, "Guess I should be glad you never could shake a bad habit."

Dick smiled back at him, relaxing. "I couldn't, could I?"

"Nope," Nix snuffed out his smoke in the ashtray Dick only kept for when Nix was in his office, and looped his arm around Dick's shoulders. "Let's go home, and I'll remind you of a few more."

"That's usually the other way around," Dick said, but he wasn't protesting, just letting Nix pull him out of the office into the thankfully empty reception area. He might get a knowing look from Esther in the morning, but he wouldn't have to walk past her tonight.

"This was fun," Nix was saying as they walked down to the car, his arm still around Dick's shoulders. It was a little too rough, like two buddies roughhousing, but Dick could still feel the affection in it, almost a mirror of his own possessiveness earlier. "I should come to work more often."

"Really?" Dick blurted. He'd told himself he wouldn't nag Nix about his work ethic, but the question slipped out anyway.

Nix froze just inside the doors to the parking lot, car key dangling from his finger. His eyes narrowed, and his arm slipped off Dick's shoulders. He gave Dick another one of those closed, assessing looks, but this time he didn't laugh it off. Dick felt his shoulders tensing, but ducked his head instead of responding. Nix could read him too well for him to pass it off as insincerity.

Finally, Nix shrugged and said, "You know what, maybe I will," and pushed out into the outside air, leaving Dick to follow behind and wonder.

Dick supposed that even if he never quite worked out what Nix meant, trying to find out would reward the effort.


End file.
